


Raindrop Prelude

by ferventrabbit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferventrabbit/pseuds/ferventrabbit
Summary: Will and Hannibal, on a boat, feeling feels.





	Raindrop Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't written a fic in three years (!). I've slowly descended back into the fandom, and I don't even know where to begin, it's been so long! I missed these two terribly.

The ship rocked gently in a windless calm, undergirded by waves sensed only in utter quiet. Will imagined life beneath them. Dark sounds he caught briefly as his ears and nose and mouth filled with water now settled, churned, seethed, always inches away. He imagined teeth.

Hannibal stood in front of the stove, his back turned as he flipped off the gas. Will hadn't eaten since they set sail two days ago. He felt like he was hovering just above sensation, cocooned almost. Every once in a while he would catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and wonder at the life there, present in dried blood and the sweat along the soft hair at his temples. Sometimes he reached out, not touching the reflection, but observing the echoed movements of his fingers as they reached and bent. Now, he watched from some distant place as Hannibal turned to him. He knew that he was inside this body that Hannibal touched and mended, took note of the strange rush in his stomach when Hannibal's face fell into shadow, the boat tilted from the sun. Still, it was once removed, all just below.

Hannibal's lips parted slightly, and for a moment Will was jolted back in, back along the ripped edges of his nerves as he waited for Hannibal to speak. Will hadn't heard his voice in twenty-five days. He knew instinctively that if Hannibal spoke to him, he would rush out to the deck and dive overboard. Will had done all of the talking since the fall, asking yes or no questions, ordering Bedelia to admit them as Hannibal grunted, screamed as she sewed Will shut with Hannibal bleeding by his side, begged when Hannibal's eyes slipped closed and the quiet current of his pulse cut off. Then Hannibal had slept and slept, while While slid the paralytic into Bedelia's leg and made them both a parting meal. She'd looked like Will felt - absent, calmed. Now the blood rushed in as he waited for Hannibal's voice, and he marveled at the stab of fear.

Hannibal didn't speak, though, just wet his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and closed his mouth again. He cleared the plates from the wooden island, Will's untouched, leaving them to soak in the sink. Will settled into the heavy silence. His eyes scanned the tiny cabin and he caught glimpses of Hannibal's things - underwear, deodorant, a tube of toothpaste - and tried to remember if he had ever seen Hannibal's bedroom back in Baltimore, thought it absurd that no, he hadn't. Then his gaze fell on Hannibal's chin, and he let himself fade back until he heard ringing in his ears, as if from far away.

Moments squeezed and released. The ringing had become a melody that Will couldn't recognize, though he was certain he'd heard it before. He slowly pursued it until he landed on a memory of a rich brown suit, Hannibal saying "they eat what they love" as Alana eyed him knowingly across the table, piano drifting distantly. Hannibal would know the name.

He was surprised to find that Hannibal had moved away from the kitchenette and was standing in front of him, out of reach. Will let himself see him. There was rough stubble curving up from the corners of his mouth like a grin. His hair was longer, darker. It looked dull to Will, when even behind glass it had always seemed perfectly set, perfectly luminous in a way that made Will want to roll his eyes. It fell over Hannibal's ears. It closed Hannibal off to him somehow, as if his voice couldn't reach. The skin under Hannibal's eyes held a faint purple. 

Hannibal advanced as if pushed from behind; Will remained seated on the bed, and wondered at the bizarre feeling that his breath came from another source, unfelt in his blood yet speeding his heartbeat. When Hannibal dropped his hand to Will's injured cheek, Will's mouth fell open and he inhaled on a painful hitch. Hannibal's fingers were soft and cold. 

Will said Hannibal's name. Then he was being pulled up by the chin, lightly, until he stood in front of Hannibal with the backs of his knees against the bed. He tasted blood in his mouth. Hannibal's eyes were entirely black. What color were they, usually? Will felt the tiny puffs of Hannibal's breath. He noticed a slow, rising terror that began right under his ribs and branched out until there was a scream lodged beneath his tongue. Hannibal said nothing. He laid his cheek against Will's face. Will's hands lifted at his sides, and he spread his fingers open as if to grab hold of something - they gripped the air. 

Raindrop Prelude. That was the piece. 

Short hair scratched the side of his lip, burning as Hannibal turned his head. Hannibal's open mouth skimmed Will's right cheekbone. Will felt eyelashes drag across his skin. He leaned his forehead in until their brows touched, and then his hands came down to settle on Hannibal's hips, resting there. He remembered the first and only time he had danced with a girl this way, and for an alarming moment he thought Hannibal might bring his arms around Will's neck. Instead, he tilted his hips forward, and Will's knees felt weak. 

His fingers curled over Hannibal's belt. Hannibal breathed in deeply through his nose, smelling, his face tucked behind Will's ear. Then he was back, his lips parted and grazing the hot place where Will's skin was stitched together in a smooth line. He bit gently at the bottom of the wound where it kissed Will's top lip. Unbidden, Will's mouth pressed closed, catching Hannibal's briefly before disconnecting. Their noses brushed. Will heard himself sigh a word, but didn't quite catch it. The clench of terror from earlier returned, replaced by a knot of unfamiliar emotion that settled at the base of his throat. Then Hannibal's hands were on his neck, tipping his head back. Will moaned.

"Not yet," Hannibal said. His voice sounded too low, almost inaudible. Before Will could blink he was released, and Hannibal was retreating towards the ladder. Will sat heavily on the bed, gasping. He felt like crying and crying until his body ached with it.

Hannibal disappeared onto the deck. 


End file.
